


Two Weeks

by odetodun



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, lot of sadness ok, some minor characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:23:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odetodun/pseuds/odetodun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's spends two weeks without Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> this is short af cause I'm working on a longer fic right now but enjoy.

Harry thought the first day would be the worst, and it felt it at the time. It was harsh and Harry felt hurt all over, he didn’t move from his bed all day. People called, people knocked but Harry ignored them all. Nothing felt right, like something was always missing. He couldn’t eat, could barely even drink the glass of water he forced himself to drink when he left his bed at eleven pm, returning back to it afterwards. Sleep didn’t come, he lay awake all night staring at the walls with tears streaming from his eyes.   
Day Two was no better, it was the same routine. Not eating, drinking little, and barely moving from his bed. The bed that felt far too empty with only one person. Harry hated the sick feeling in his stomach and the throbbing in his head. Day Two was the first day he tried to call, and went straight to voicemail. He listened to his voice and let the tears flow, his voice made everything feel better and worse at the same time. People tried getting through to him again this day, but he declined any form of contact.   
Day Three was when the numb feeling kicked it, he was able to stomach the smallest bit of food but it wasn’t much and it still made him feel sick. The numbness took over his entire body, from head to toe. He couldn’t get away from it, even when he tried to soak it away in a boiling bath that hurt his skin. He cried again, his eyes felt sore from crying and his throat ached from the loud sobs that came out.   
Day Four was monotonous, less people tried to talk to him – they seemed to be giving up. Harry wanted to be alone even though he knew this made it worse. He had called him twenty times by Day Four, all of them had been declined. Harry left his phone buried under the covers while he sat in the darkness of his living, all the curtains drawn and no noise coming in. Everything was empty, but Harry still heard the voices in his head. The words repeated over and over and over. Harry fell asleep on the sofa this day, not bothering to even cover himself up.   
Day Five brought the day that he finally ate a meal, drowning out the horrible growling in his stomach. This was also the first day he started drinking; he drank two bottles of wine and cried over the voicemail that he got through to six times that day. He almost rang up his Mum, but chose not to and threw his phone across the room in anger.   
Day Six consisted of drink after drink, washing away his pain with alcohol felt the only way possible. He hiccupped as he finished another drink, only calling the number once today because he was too drunk to function properly. No one tried to get through to him; he had pushed them all away. This was one of the loneliest days, when he felt completely isolated.   
Day Seven, half way through this period, was full of pure anger. Anger at himself, at everyone and everything around him. He smashed two glasses after spilling wine on the counter and dropped a plate, not bothering to clean any of it up. He also smashed a photo frame and then cried over the broken shards that littered the glass over the picture. Their first picture. He called again this day, only to get a voicemail. He tried three times in total, before giving up and drinking the vodka he had found.   
Day Eight was the first day without alcohol, since he had ran out and refused the leave the house. He forced himself into the shower this day, crying as the water washed over his sore body. He had accidentally cut himself on the glass and that stung as he showered, Harry hated pain. He had had enough pain. He tried to clean up, but ended leaving it in a big pile in the middle of kitchen whilst he sat on the floor. He couldn’t even cry anymore, his eyes stung and he felt lost. Lost, alone and completely fragile. He ended up in bed again, even though he didn’t sleep well that night. He couldn’t sleep sober.   
Day Nine was one of the worst, Harry honestly hoped that it would’ve stopped by now. But this day hurt just as much as day one. He had gotten up after a small bit of sleep, and he thought it was all okay for a second before he opened his eyes and the left side of the bed was empty still. He couldn’t cry, nothing came out. But this didn’t mean that he wasn’t hurting he was hurting worse. He didn’t eat that day, and all the alcohol was gone. He tried to call, but no bother. It went to voicemail, but this time Harry left a message. It was the first time he had spoken in nine days, and his voice sounded sad and distant. It didn’t sound like his at all, and all he said was ‘Please call me’. He knew it wouldn’t work, but it was the first time he had spoken and that was when he realised how broken he really was. He cleaned up after this, an attempt to distract himself. When the flat was finally cleaned, he sat on the sofa watching the sun set through his only open curtain. Light drained from the room, and Harry felt himself drain. Like he was a bath and someone had pulled the plug, he was slowly slipping away into nothing.   
Day Ten, this was the first day he made any contact with anyone. He text his Mum, just to tell her he was fine. This was lie, but he needed her to stop worrying. He ate a full meal this day as well, along with a glass of water. He kept it down despite the lump in his throat that wouldn’t go away. He did change properly this day, into a different pair of sweats and an old t shirt. Harry turned on the TV for a few minutes, before the noise got too much so he switched it off. He called once, but hung up himself after three rings. He felt stupid this day, that his self pity was awful. He almost stepped out of the flat, but decided quickly against it. Returning to his sofa to watch the sun drain away from the sky again, drifting into a disturbed sleep soon after it got dark.   
Day Eleven, he woke up oddly calm. His Mum had text him back to say she loved him, and even Niall had text to update Harry on the football scores. He managed to ask someone to buy him groceries, and they left them outside his door which Harry opened quickly and shot back inside. He cooked his first meal that night, a chicken stir-fry. He even managed a glass of mango smoothie. His stomach accepting this meal, and not making him feel sick. He still hurt, but it was lessening. His bath didn’t make him ache, it made him feel replenished. He slept for the first time undisturbed, even though it was on the sofa.   
Day Twelve was the first day he woke up without being tormented in his sleep. He had even forgotten to call, but he had texted the few people that attempted back. This felt like a big step, Harry opened most of the curtains, leaving the bedroom alone. He turned on the TV, and let it play in the background while he sat quietly. He ate again, a normal meal with a drink. He felt slightly normal, of course the pain wasn’t gone but he felt weirdly mellow. At a sensible time, he made his way to the bedroom and attempted to sleep but it didn’t feel right so he spent another night on the sofa.   
Day Thirteen, he received a text. It was just as he had finished his lunch. His phone buzzed and he was expecting it to be his Mum or Niall. But when the name flashed across the screen, every emotion from the last thirteen days hit him like a ton of bricks. He sunk down onto the floor, his heart beating at 100 miles per hour. He finally read the text, and it said something about getting his stuff. Harry cried a lot that night, not bothering to respond to the text. Everything felt heavy, it hurt to breath and he ached all over. Every part of his body hurt, and he curled up on the sofa again. He lay staring out at the darkness, and he didn’t sleep at all that night. Not a wink.   
Day Fourteen, Harry only changed because he was coming. He had on jeans and a black t shirt, he hadn’t shaved and his hair was a complete mess. He didn’t care, he had nothing to hide. When there was a knock on the door, Harry felt himself freeze. It was probably the first time Louis had ever knocked, Harry knew he was capable of letting himself in but he finally moved himself and opened the door. Harry almost fainted when he finally saw his face. Louis was freshly shaven and dressed in a large jumper and black jeans. He had a coat wrapped around him, and he was staring directly at Harry. Harry managed to look everywhere except his eyes, and let Louis’ walk past him into the apartment. There was a little gasp, and Harry knew Louis would be taking in the darkness of the flat and the mess Harry had caused yesterday. Harry didn’t make a sound, standing frozen next to the door Louis had closed. Louis finally disappeared and Harry left himself collapse against the wall, it took everything in him not to cry but he knew Louis would be gone soon and then he could do as he pleased again.   
“It’s a fucking mess” Louis said, leaving the bedroom with his clothes and a bag. Harry didn’t say anything again, pulling up a chair and sitting down. He closed his eyes for a minute, allowing himself to breathe properly.   
“You should tidy” Louis said as he made his way into the bathroom, where he heard another gasp. Louis was probably was witnessing the dirty bath water and towels and clothes that littered the bathroom.   
“You haven’t cleaned up at all” Louis said, Harry stayed silent. He didn’t trust his voice. He didn’t trust the feelings that were rising in him. Sadness, anger, hurt, betrayal, loneliness. Everything he could possibly feel.  
“Why aren’t you talking?”Louis’ voice had gained volume, and Harry couldn’t even look at him.   
“Talk Harry. Just talk!” Louis shouted, and his name sounded foreign on Louis’ tongue.   
“You’re a mess, this place is a mess. Fuck sake Harry, speak!” Louis screamed and Harry stood up, the chair crashing to the floor.   
“I wonder why it’s a fucking mess! Are you honestly expecting me to be fucking brilliant, for me to welcome you in with open arms to collect your stuff and leave again. What were you expecting because this had been the last two weeks for me!” Harry shouted, his voice sounded unknown and the emotion that ran off it was tense.   
“I didn’t want you to be like this” Louis said his voice quiet now. Harry shook his head, turning away from Louis and leaning against the counter.   
“All of the liquors gone, did you drink it all?” Louis felt so distant, Harry couldn’t even read his voice like he used to.   
“Gone in three days, that must be a record” Harry sounded bitter, but this was only to cover to hurt he was feeling. Louis took a step forward, and Harry moved back into the counter. Gripping tightly onto it was what stopped him from collapsing to the floor.   
“Why are you like this?” Louis asked, concern actually in his voice.  
“Because I love you” Harry finally said, and it felt like bile rising in his throat. Louis closed his eyes, shook his head and turned towards the door. Harry didn’t want it to end like this, but he had no choice. He couldn’t stop Louis, so he let him go. He let him walk away, for the second time. He loved Louis, but Harry obviously wasn’t what Louis wanted.   
Day Fifteen came, and Harry woke up to a missed call. The number was unknown, so Harry ignored it. That’s when he heard the banging, the horrible racket that echoed through the flat. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the front door. Louis stood in the doorway, staring up at Harry with wide eyes.  
“I love you Harry” Louis said and Harry felt his stomach drop and his heart accelerate.   
“I couldn’t end like this, I won’t let it” Louis said, and he took a step towards Harry. Harry didn’t move back, rather taking step towards Louis.   
“Let’s make this work” Harry said, sounding right for the first time in two weeks. Louis tip toed, to kiss Harry and when their lips touched Harry felt complete. His arms wrapped around Louis’ small frame and he held him while they kissed.   
Day Sixteen, Harry woke up on the right side of the bed. He was wrapped in the covers, and also in Louis’ arms. This was the first day he woke up whole, and not lost anymore. He had his compass.

**Author's Note:**

> well I hope that tickled ur fancy, I might post another short one idk but I'm working on a big fic right now so don't hold me to it xxx


End file.
